Harry Potter and the Cliched Subplots of Doom
by fancifulpants
Summary: An anthology of fanon abusive fanfiction. Exchange Students, Mary Sues, time turners, long lost twins, buff!Harry, h0t!Ron, sexy!Hermoine, snogging, cliches, repetetive plots, and the most evil being yet: Romantic Subplots! Parody much?
1. Attack of the Sues

One not-so-fine morning on the first of September, Harry Potter awoke to a dreary room in a dull house on a bland street in a boring subdivision. But this was not the Harry Potter that most readers know and love; this was fan-fictional Harry, any good book's worst nightmare. Fan-fictional Harry was well built and muscular from long hours of broom flight, and his messy, unkempt black hair had suddenly become well groomed and shiny with just the right amount of shagginess.

He quickly hopped out of bed, throwing on a somewhat too-tight t-shirt, even though his clothes all used to belong to Dudley and were much too big. Harry put on his glasses, which were no longer nerdy, but stylish; he finished getting dressed in his stylish pants and Italian leather shoes, and walked down the stairs where, normally, he would eat a hearty breakfast, which he would prepare for himself and his abusive distant relatives. Of course, despite that prior to now the Dursleys only treated Harry with general unkind, aloof disinterest, they were at this time horribly abusive, beating, berating, and generally harming Harry any chance they got.

This morning, however, rather than fixing breakfast for his relatives, he merely packed up his broom, and illegally flew himself to King's Cross, which any reader knows will blow up in his face later in the form of more physical abuse.

Upon arriving at King's Cross, Harry was immediately and without explanation already boarding the train. He had also not brought Hedwig, because, as a non-human character, she provided little to the many twisting Romantic subplots that take precedence in Harry Potter's Fan-fictional universe. Bringing his trunk with him to the doors of the train, Harry boarded slowly and made his way to the back of the train where he and his close friends usually sat.

However, upon arriving at this compartment, Harry was astounded by what his eyes perceived. Fan-fictional Ron, who had formerly been tall and gangly, was suddenly muscular, lean and tan, as Harry had become, despite the fact that red haired people are prone to freckling and do not tan well. Additionally, Ron's hand-me-down clothes were a thing of the past. He was wearing the hottest new styles of 2005 even though it was the late 1990's, and he seemed to be a walking advertisement for such brands as _Abercrombie _and _American Eagle_, both decidedly American brands.

The most shocking changes, however, had occurred in Fan-fictional Hermoine. Once a book-smart, plot essential character, Hermoine had become a buxom, beautiful, blonde with perfect curves, and gorgeous features. Her hair, once bushy and brown, had become sleek, shiny, and stereotypically blonde. She had also become overzealous in the application of make-up, no doubt with the help of her American cousin, an institution all female characters had just in case they were ever in need of a fashion overhaul. Hermoine, too, wore clothing much too small for her new figure that would have violated any school's dress code under normal circumstances, but the Hogwarts dress code is apparently very relaxed if you are perfectly proportioned.

As soon as Harry had put his eyes back in, he turned to Ron with a pleasantly surprised, but quite confused look on his attractive face. Ron returned the confused look, and shrugged his shoulders before turning back to face Hermoine. Ron gave Hermoine his undivided attention, because if he didn't, there would be dire consequences. Namely, there would not be enough romantic tension to create a dramatic romantic subplot later on, in which both Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy publicly confess their love for Hermoine, and Hermoine is forced to choose between the boy who has been nothing but cruel to her for six years, and her best friend.

After Harry's random thought process had ended, the wheals of the train had begun to turn, so Harry, Hermoine and Ron all sat down together in the train car, asking each other questions about their summer break. The tone of the conversation changed, however, when Harry spoke the words on everyone's mind.

"Wow, Hermoine, you're not unattractive anymore!" Harry said in a most over exuberant tone.

"I know, isn't it grand? I decided to trade in my intelligence, wit and plot-importance for cheap good looks and an easy smile. I've noticed, however, that lately I've had the compulsive need to giggle. Isn't it swell?" Hermoine giggled with glee, twirling her golden blonde hair around her well-manicured fingers.

However, Hermoine would not be giggling for long. While the trio sat in the back of the train, a beautiful, mysterious girl whom none of them had ever seen before burst through the door. She had bright blonde hair and purple-blue eyes, and was decidedly more attractive and shapely than the almost perfect new Hermoine.

The more attractive blonde walked through the door and cooed softly, "Can I sit in this compartment with you? All of the other compartments are conveniently full."

"Sure, but who are you? I have never seen you before in my life, and there is no logical explanation for your presence." Harry scratched his head in bewilderment.

"My name is Mary Sue!" she replied gaily, "I'm an embodiment of everything the average 12 year old girl most fondly wishes she could be. I'm beautiful, popular, smart, kind, an animagus, a master of the entirely made up, 'Specialus Magicus,' and I love baby animals. I'm also a transfer student from America, despite the fact that Hogwarts has never accepted transfers before, and now would be a very dangerous time to start considering the current crisis with Voldemort. However, the reason I'm here really exceeds logic, except that I am here to provide Harry with a new love interest. Well, also to create a love triangle between Draco, Harry and me, and in choosing the one I love most, fulfilling some random prophecy that makes absolutely no sense out of context, and very little in context. I also have a dark secret that you will never discover until the inopportune time I choose to reveal it to you." Her words were followed with silence. This was the sound of two key characters being ignored.

"I was supposed to be the attractive blonde who creates an annoyingly repetitive love triangle that ends up with me winning over the bad boy's heart, and his deciding to join the Order and save the world." Hermoine pouted, slumping over in her chair.

"Sorry, you and Ron will have to grow up, get married, and have more children than the old woman who lived in a shoe." Mary Sue responded in a sympathetic, soothing, silky voice.

"No! Please, not that! Anything but that!" Hermoine erupted into tears, as Ron reached over and tried to comfort his bride to be.

"Now that we've become acquainted, Harry, I'll need to catch up with you later so that I can reveal my deep dark secret to you and Malfoy each in turn; get sorted into either Slytherin of Gryffindor, and definitely not Hufflepuff; but I'll meet up again with all of you in the Great Hall. Right now, I need to scout the school for someone almost as perfect as me to become my best friend, and the girlfriend of whichever boy I dump." Mary Sue winked at Harry and left Harry, Hermoine, and Ron alone in the compartment.

The group pulled into the train station after what seemed like about fifteen minutes, because the fan fiction author could not create dialogue that lasted any longer. Harry sighed wistfully; even though it had only been fifteen minutes, Harry was already able to tell that this would be an interesting year.


	2. Snogs and Logs and Puppy Dogs

A/N: Yay for the positive response! I finally obliged and wrote a new chapter. Please read and review, and if you do, I will pledge my undying affection.

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Due to the author's inability to write transitional paragraphs, sentences, phrases or even words as discovered earlier, the Hogwarts express mysteriously pulled into Hogwarts rather than its usual drop off location. However, no one especially cares because the young fan fiction readers are already so deeply entranced by the established sexual tension between all of the characters that they can hardly be bothered with any sorts of facts or details at this point.

Sitting down at an available table, Harry, Ron and Hermione waited with baited breath as Dumbledore was about to make a confusing, nonsensical speech that advances the plot in some random way and most likely ignores the ensuing threat of hostile takeover by Voldemort to focus instead on an "unexpected" plot twist involving snogging.

No one was more anxious to hear the speech than Harry. The context of the speech could determine the pairing he was stuck with for the duration of the fic, unless it ended up being a vague, garbled speech about Bertie Botts every flavor beans. As the speech began, the trio settled down into seats next to some other, less important characters who will not be getting any action.

"Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo! It'll do magic believe it or not bippity-boppity-boo!" Dumbledore began as he waved his wand around, dimming and raising the lights. Some of the characters who had were using Hermione's abandoned brain cells raised their eyebrows, confused by Dumbledore's antics before realizing that it made at least as much sense as anything else that had happened that day.

"Yesterday I had some Bertie Bott's every flavor beans," he told his students, making them suspect that Dumbledore in fact had an advertising contract with Bertie Bott, considering the frequency with which he mentioned their fine products, "they are magically delicious! On to the point, there was a prophecy made. Regardless of the fact that prophecies are only supposed to be shared between witnesses and the person whom the prophecy regarded, I have decided to share it with all of you for dramatic effect. The lion and the snake must shag like bunnies, the offspring they produce will kill the one true serpent. Oh right, there's another prophecy. The ¾ blood prince and the leggy blonde with mystical powers must also shag like bunnies to produce an heir who will defeat the aforementioned serpent."

"Who is the lion supposed to be?" Ron asked, confused and emotionally immature.

"Well, considering that, since I'm going to fulfill the other prophecy witch my whirlwind Mary Sue relationship, I'm guessing this is not a slash fic, but not because the relationship requires children to result. Apparently, in the parts of Britain in which we reside, it is in fact possible for a man to conceive children. So the lion is either an undeclared OC, your sister, Ginny or Hermione because the snake is almost definitely Malfoy."

"WHAAAAAT? Hermione was supposed to marry ME and have MY little Weasleys!" Ron pouted, oh so sexily.

"You see, Ron, fanfiction authors forget their pairings rather quickly when a more confusing arrangement comes along. And really, who wouldn't pick Malfoy over you? He's selfish, mean, prejudice, narrow-minded, snobby, and will always be involved in a torrid affair with Clorox bleach."

"Wait…I think I missed the irresistible part?" Ron looked, again, confused. His maturity level and his intelligence were dwindling, as his main purpose was comic relief.

"Oh, right, I should know this considering how frequently I seem to be dating him. He's hot and rich."

"Gotcha. One more thing, Harry."

"Yes?"

"Am I going to snog anyone in this fic?"

"Unlikely. Though we may build up excessive sexual tension between you and Hermione to make Malfoy jealous."

"Damn." Ron slammed his fist on the table, injuring his thumb. Hermione, however, was too captivated by the Prince of Peroxide to notice. She wasn't sure what had first attracted her to him. Was it the time he called her a mudblood? The time her hexed her? The time he had harassed her friends? The other time he called her a mudblood? She couldn't say, but she knew that she was totally crushing. Her developed chest was heaving at the mention of Draco's name as she contemplated the prophecies, which Dumbledore had just mentioned. Of course, this took much longer than usual without her normal supply of brain cells. Realizing that it was hopeless, she decided to go with the flow until Dumbledore chose a time to explain the plot.

At some point during this time, Harry and Ron shoveled forkfuls of food on their plates as Hermione considered how unsophisticated they were, while Draco ate properly, chewing each bite 52 times, putting his fork down between bites, and tap dancing all the while. It was of course at this point that she realized that it was true love. Her best friends would never understand her. She needed a stranger who had harassed and berated her for the last 6 years. Immediately after she had this thought, the meal was over because the author made it so.

"Hermione Granger! Draco Malfoy! Come to my office before you go to your rooms. I have to talk to you about the prophecy – I mean about something." Dumbledore shouted over the chattering crowd.

"I wonder what he wants to talk to us about!" Hermione thought to herself as she gazed into Draco's cold, chilly, icy, -9.4445 degree Celsius eyes and contemplated her destiny.

As the two made their way into Dumbledore's office, he instructed them to sit down and began to speak.

"Okay, so Hermione is head girl and Draco is head boy. I'll pause to allow some time for you to insert some shocked expressions. If you'd like, indignation is also acceptable." Dumbledore began as the two gave looks of shock and indignation, "I suppose that's enough of that. Well, as head boy and head girl, you will share a palatial separate dorm with two king size beds with red satin sheets, one master bathroom and a video library containing, my personal favorite, "Bondage Babes of Britain," where you will be completely unsupervised for the duration of this year. All right? All right. Oh, and you're supposed to get married so Draco can turn to the light side instead of the dark side out of his love for you. Hop to it, kiddos!"

Hermione and Draco continued to look shocked and indignant, having not been instructed on another appropriate emotion. They, however, did not protest their spacious and sexy living conditions, but brought their bags up to the not-so-separate rooms and began to set up their things as quickly as possible so as to build up some sexual tension before bed.

A/N: Not the best, will get better. Just a parody anyway, so who cares? Lol. Enjoy!


	3. The Disappearing Idiot

Harry and Ron, still sitting together in the great hall where the author had abandoned them without warning, suddenly apparated into the Gryffindor dormitories even though it is impossible to do so on Hogwarts Grounds. They were surprised to find that, wherever they looked, Ron's sister, Ginny, could not be located.

"How could this be happening?" Ron shouted in fear. Harry gave a comforting pat.

"Don't worry Ron, I'm sure she's fine. But for the purpose of this fanfiction, Ginny Weasley does not exist. Temporarily forgotten by our ADHD author, no doubt. That or she popped into another fic for a bit of Ginny/Draco/Harry action," Ron made a disgusted face as Harry continued to explain, "If I were going to date Ginny in this fic, she would e here. However, as I am obviously paired with Mary Sue, Ginny has been made obsolete."

"Oh…right…" Ron looked befuddled, which was very typical of the immature, not-enough-brains-to-fill-an-eggcup-but-attractive Ron that was starring in this fic.

"Oh, and considering the path that this fic appears to be taking, you may also spontaneously disappear half way through, possible to reappear and deliver a delightfully dim line about something, like how confusing girls are."

"You mean I'm the disappearing idiot?" Ron looked rather outraged, balling his hands into fists.

"Yep. Unless the writer is a Ron/Luna shipper, in which case you are the disappearing & reappearing idiot. Granted, you may both disappear after hooking up for no apparent reason. That's what we like to call 'Author ADD.'" Harry explained rationally.

"Author ADD? It sounds like they just go around pairing up random people and then forgetting about them."

"That," Harry responded sullenly, " Is exactly what happens. Oh, and I'm probably about to turn very, very emo."

"Not you too!" Ron exclaimed angrily, "I suppose I'm going to be Euro-punk, right?"

"Exactly. And Hermione is going to be Emo too, and Draco is going to be Goth/Emo. Mary Sue is just going to be perfect, so no worries there. And Luna is still absolutely nuts."

"What happened to Neville, Seamus, and Dean, by the way?" Ron asked, looking around the deserted common room.

"Disappeared. Not plot essential."

"Padma and Lavender?"

"Dissapeared. Oh, but no worries, Fred and George are inexplicably back at Hogwarts to provide some quintessential comic relief."

"I thought that was what I was here for…"

"It is, Ron, but you're just not funny enough on your own to make this poorly written, confusing fic worth reading."

"Damn." Ron sulked off without another word to find someone to snog. Gryffindor Common room looked like the rapture had come early: half of the regular students were no where to be seen. Even Hermione had left to join Draco in the overly large, over-furnished and terribly sexy heads quarters…

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Hermione and Draco had finally unpacked their trunks and changed into their sleepwear, which for Hermione, was a red teddy with Gryffindor gold trim. Hermione had settled into the Head Common room to read a book by the fire, (she somehow remembered how to read despite her earlier brain-ectomy,) when Draco Malfoy burst in wearing nothing but his shiny silver and green boxers with the slytherin crest in the corner.

"I hate you." Draco said passively, settling into a large Green and red armchair.

"I hate you, too." Hermione said.

"I hate you…more" Draco replied, competitively and very much like a 4 year old.

"Why?" Hermione inserted an inquisitive word into the conversation, and despite the author's lack of reasoning ability Draco had to answer.

"Because you're a mudblood," Draco managed, "Why do you hate me?"

"Because you suck." Hermione replied in a would-be-dignified way.

"Bugger, then why do we get married?"

"Because we're both shallow and you're hot and rich, and I'm just hot."

"Tizzight."

"Uh oh, it's almost 11:00 and we haven't even established any sexual tension yet!" Hermione announced frantically.

"Quick! I'll get in the shower and you can accidentally on purpose walk in on me then run out screaming, thinking all the will about how badly you want to get in their with me."

"1…2…3…GO!" Hermione raced back into her Room and put on a towel while Draco stripped his boxers and climbed into the shower. After waiting about 5 minutes, Hermione waltzed into the bathroom, saw Draco showering, screamed bloody murder, and ran off to the Gryffindor Common room.

"RON! HARRY! I SAW DRACO NEKKID!" Hermione shouted upon entering the Room.

"Well, I'm not jealous if THAT'S what you're thinking!" Harry shouted indignantly.

"Well, I wasn't. But now, I'm thinking that you are." Hermione replied snippily.

"Damn it." Harry looked at his feat, not daring to look up at Ron or Hermione.

"Well, that's just great, isn't it?" Ron replied angrily, "Now we'll never shag like bunnies."

"Go shag Luna, you're too bitter and you're ruining the mood." Ron skulked off to find the Ravenclaw common room and oblige.

"So, Harry, how's Mary Sue?" Hermione asked, forgetting Ron.

"No idea. Haven't seen her since the train."

"Damn, author probably forgot another pairing."

"It appears so. Unless you see Ginny around, in which case, she's just abandoned the pairing all together in favor of another one."

"Oh, that's not happening yet, wait until at least half way through the fic. Besides, you haven't even met DeepDarkSecret!MarySue."

"Lucky me…" Harry traipsed up into the Gryffindor dormitories, forgetting the presence of his best female friend, and grabbed his invisibility cloak. Walking down the hallway, Harry was sure he felt himself bump into something. Looking around, he suddenly noticed a brilliantly white unicorn with a totally cute pink ribbon in her hair standing in the hallway. Confused by this mysterious appearance, Harry approached the Unicorn, which suddenly morphed into not a unicorn, but Mary Sue!"

"OH EM EFF GEE!" Harry shouted in surprise, " YOU ARE AN ANIMINIMAGUS!"

"Of course. And a master of Specialus Magicus." She responded matter of factly.

"Specialus whattus?" Harry looked at least as confused as before.

"Specialus magicus, Harry, you of all people should know what it is. You can do it too in about 50 of the fics. Oh, and I can use wandless magic."

"Well, what were you doing out here at this time of night….as a unicorn…"

"Oh, I was just waiting for you to stumble by so I can tell you my deep dark secret." She approached him slowly and gently stroked his chin.

"Um…couldn't you have just gone up to the Gryffindor Common room?"

"No, I was never actually sorted. I was just a random institution put in place by the author for plot purposes."

"Well, that sucks, but seriously, next time, don't walk around the corridors like a unicorn." Harry looked at her as though she might be insane. And part veela. Sexy biotch.

"Oh sure, be jealous, but now is not the time. I have to tell you my secret."

"You have another one? Specialus Magicus, Animagus, Wandless Magic, none of that was enough?"

"No, of course not." She responded, flicking him on the head for his stupidity, "I'm ¼ vampire, ½ veela, 1/3 giant, 9/23 leprochaun, Draco Malfoy's cousin, Snape's grand neice and Voldemort's daughter. Please excuse the fact that we look absolutely nothing alike." She finished, importantly. Harry looked shocked, dazed, confused, bewildered, shocked, stunned, taken aback, indignant, surprised and shocked.

"That makes so little sense Professor Trelawney's predictions are beginning to sound accurate."

"She doesn't exist, remember? No romantic subplots could ever come of her existence, and since we already have the prophecies, she's not a necessary establishment."

"Again, Damn." Harry looked around the room as Mary Sue continued.

"It's about time we talked to Dumbledore and had him finish filling us in on the prophecies. Oh, by the way, I'm in Gryffindor."

"I thought you said you were never sorted."

"Oh, I wasn't, but since we're eternally bound I should really be sleeping in close proximity to you. That way I can sneak into your dorm and shag you."

"Sounds like a plan." Harry replied, and the two of them began the long trek to Dumbledore's office.

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A/N: Review. Not the best, but I was bored. Much love.


	4. The Sue who Shagged me

Harry and Mary Sue walked down the long, winding corridor to Dumbledore's office, whose password Harry mysteriously guessed on his first try, "sugar." Walking up to the office and knocking on the door, Harry and Mary Sue were ushered into his office when Dumbledore gave the okay.

"Ah, I see you're here to talk about the prophecy." Dumbledore stated, knowingly. Harry and Mary Sue looked surprised.

"How did you know!" Harry exclaimed, inserting extraneous punctuation for dramatic effect.

"Well, obviously, as a Legilimens with ESPN, the author has decided that you know longer need to explain things to me, since the author can not explain her own bizarre ideas, and that I just automatically understand. It's all part of being a quirky and eccentric but loveable senior citizen. With Chocolate."

"You and Lupin would get along. He tells me to eat chocolate a lot." Harry pondered to himself.

"That reminds me, I never gave Remy those Honeydukes chocolates I've been meaning to give him since his last birthday. Oh well." Dumbledore grabbed a box of chocolates and started stuffing them into his mouth, in between bites of Bertie Botts every flavor beans, excitement in every box!

"Um…professor…about the prophecy?" Harry reminded him gently while Mary Sue ran her hands through Harry's already messy hair."

"Oh, right, the shagging, yes. Yes. Well, of course, the necessary occomodations for the other prophecy have been made, so I suppose that you can use the now completely abandoned Girls' 7th year Gryffindor Dormitories. Work for you?"

"Sir, I can't get up those stairs, they've been charmed, as you kno-"

"Oh Harry, don't be silly! Those stairs only work when you're trying to get up their for no particular reason. If you actually ARE up to something dubious, you can always get up the stairs."

"Then what's the point of having them there at all?"

"Oh, just to entertain the other house members when random boys slide down the stairs. Any other questions?"

"Um, yah, why do we have to fulfill both prophecies if they do the same thing? And why do we have to fulfill them at all? Half the prophecies in the Ministry of Magic will never get fulfilled."

"Well, Harry, these random plot devices are not yours to question. They are a permanent establishment, and a part of life for overworked fanfiction characters."

"It would be nice to have a plot that, you know, made sense occasionally." Harry sputtered, sarcastically.

"BLASPHEMER!1!1" Dumbledore shouted, angrily, "You know as well as I do that fanfictional plots must NEVER EVER MAKE SENSE! If they did, the universe would tilt on its axis and send the earth flying DIRECTLY INTO THE SUN, causing all life to parish!"

"That makes no sense!" Harry shouted over him.

"EXACTLY! AND THANK GOD FOR THAT!" Dumbledore yelled, and pushed Harry and Mary Sue out of his office to think about their behavior.

"That was weird. Let's not go back." Harry inserted.

"Yah, let's go shag." Mary Sue replied lacing her fingers with his eagerly.

"Kay." And they went of to the girl's dorms to oblige.

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"Die Mudblood die." Draco said to Hermione one find morning in their Heads Dorm.

"Ferret boy. Ferret boy." Hermione retorted smartly. Or not.

"Mudblood! Mudblood! Mudblood!" he shouted again.

"Ferret Ferret Ferret!" She shouted even more loudly than he had.

"MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD! MUDBLOOD….!" Draco began to shout as Hermione suddenly shouted at the same time.

"FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET! FERRET…!"

"MUDBLOOD TIMES INFINITY!" Draco positively screamed, his face convulsing oddly.

"FERRET TIMES INFINITY PLUS ONE!" Hermoine had obviously won this time be the defeated look on Draco's face.

"Fine. I hate you." Draco conceded.

"I hate you too, Malfoy."

"Oooh say my name again!" Malfoy prodded.

"Malfoy." Hermione obligied, again.

"Oooooo, that's right."

"Malfoy."

"Yah"

"Malfoy!"

"Oh, yeah!"

"That's a really stupid name."

"What?"

"It is. It just sounds really weird if you say it to yourself enough times."

"Bitch."

"Ferret!" Hermione shouted, and with that, she shoved Draco on to the large comfortable couch in nothing but her entirely too short skirt and entirely too tight blouse and began snogging Draco desperately.

"What can I say? Mortal enemies make for the best shags." Draco thought to himself as he snogged Hermoine more fervently.

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Ron, having finally reappeared, showed up in the Gryffindor common room, shirt shoddily rebuttoned, hair mussed and tie draped around his shoulders.

"What have you been up to?" Harry asked snidely, clothes in a similar state of disrepair.

"Shagging Loony, and you?"

"Shagging Mary Sue. So, any good heirs produced lately? Any good prophecies fulfilled?"

"Not lately, no. But we haven't been going at it very long, I'm sure the heir of Ravenclaw will be coming along any time know." Ron replied contemplatively.

"It would be only fair, of course." Harry nodded, "but really, as soon as this heir is produced or the author forgets this pairing, I think I really should date badass!ginny and be ANGSTY." Harry struck an emo pose, and considered shrinking his jeans.

"I think you should wait until you discover your secret special powers. Then maybe you'll be able to shrink your jeans horizontally, but not vertically." Ron replied in an uncharacteristically logical tone. Harry pondered this, but eventually nodded in agreement and went back the dormitories to listen to emo music and doodle little hearts on his forearm with an exacto knife. This was, of course, because it looked pretty and not because his soul was in the throws of agony due to the death of all those he held near and dear. And his newfound emo-ness was due to neither of these, but the fact that house elves had overcooked Harry's scrambled eggs for the third time in a row, and overcooked eggs are enough to make any superhero cry and buy pants in the ladies' department.

A/N: Harry's life sucks. He wants to die. Or shag someone. Poor Harry.


	5. If You Were Gay

Good morrow, kids! I know it's been years - quite literally - since I've given this any attention, but instead of writing my paper about Manilius' Astronomica and Petronius' Satyricon for one of my classes her at Northwestern, I've decided that I'm going to update this thing. That's what all good kids do during finals week, right?

Chapter 5, In which the writer continues her story long after having forgotten what she was writing about.

Harry Potter is older now. No one is quite sure of when this became factual, but it most certainly is. It is his seventh canon-violating year, and since the author is not quite certain as to how to incorporate new canon details, she simply chooses to slip some in while ignoring those which are inconvenient or plot-defying.

Fortunately for Harry, however, she's not yet quite sure which she will slip in and ignore, which brings us to our hero's current dilemma through a rousing game of, "Why Am I Upset," also known as, "Which of My Lifelong Companions are Dead, Again?"

Ron walked briskly into the Gryffindor boys dormitories carrying a large socket wrench for reasons unbeknownst to all but Ron and Luna Lovegood, his current inexplicable shagging partner, where he found Harry sitting on his bed with a doleful expression and a Bright Eyes CD on repeat. Staring dumbly at Harry for several moments, Ron chose not to speak until the ninth time Conor Oberst reiterated his desire for a lover he did not have to love. And then it really bared mentioning.

"What are you upset about, Harry?" Ron asked, sitting next to him on the bed and setting down his wrench, before smoothing his sexily mussed red hair that was, invariably, messed up by recent shagging.

"Sirius is dead." Harry replied in his own characteristic deadpan.

"He's been dead for anywhere between two and twelve years, depending on whose timeline you're using and whether or not you're getting them all wildly mixed up, which the author invariably is. But who is, accordingly, not a reasonable excuse for your to be upset." Ron explained with uncharacteristic intelligence oft associated with an omniscient and intrusive narrator who forgets to use characterization and is forced to resort to deus ex machina-esque revelations.

Ronarrator was right, however. It had been two years in Harry Potter time since Sirius' death, four year in fan time, and twelve years if you mixed timelines and noted that Sirius died in 1995 or 96, but that the fic was being written as though it took place in the year 2007. It wasn't why he was upset.

"Oh. Right. Who died just recently that I'd be upset about?" Harry asked, looking quizzical and momentarily forgetting to look distraught and emotive.

"I'm not sure, exactly. Dumbledore did at the end of our sixth year, which should only be several months ago, but it's likely that our narrator has not accommodated this detail. You might be upset about that, though."

"Are you sure he's dead? I saw him a few hours ago."

"Quite sure. But then, I'm also quite sure that we said we weren't coming back to school next year, and here we are."

"Huh. Did anyone else die?"

"Dobby, I think. But who cares? I mean, really? And I think some other blokes did. Colin of one of those other ones. Oh, right, and Fred. Or George. One of them. They look so similar, bugger if I know."

"You don't seem upset about your brother or brothers."

"Well, you see, Harry, they're right downstairs. Nobody wants sad details incorporated into fanfic. We much prefer to ignore them and come to our own illogical conclusions based on faulty information. See, he can't be dead if he gave me this wrench."

"He gave you that wrench?" Harry asked, suddenly curious as to whether or not hsi might be the cause of his emotive behavior.

"I don't think so, but for some reason, I think I'm to understand that he did. If you'll excuse me, though, I must be off to shag various blondes in manners that will be inadequately and inaccurately described by someone who obviously has little to no experience with sexual relationships or, in fact, human anatomy."

"Wait! Why else might I be upset?" Harry asked, suddenly desperate.

"Well...Hermione's shagging Malfoy. Might that be it? Only other theory I'm working on is that you're gay."

"Probably one of them, thanks Ron."

"Or both. Any time, Harry." And with that, he traipsed out of the room and into the loving arms of Random Female with a Vaguely Canon Name because Luna was Unavailable due to scheduling conflicts.

"Draco, have I ever told you that you look like a character from Buffy the Vampire slayer?" Hermione asked for at least the seventh time.

"Yes, you have. At least seven times, to be precise," Draco noted accurately.

"Ah," Hermione responded dimly, twirling her mysteriously blonde and fabulous hair around her finger, "Do you think they'll get Sarah Michelle Geller to play me in the biopic of my life? They could call it, 'Hermione, the Voldemort Slayer.' And you could be the villain with a heart of gold and rouguish good looks."

"Right. Yes."

Hermione nibbled his ear lobe, and then various other things that were also part of his anatomy.

At some point, she probably nibbled the skin covering his splenic artery. And or various fingertips, nodules, bone junctures, edges, flat planes, corners, freckles, moles, precancerous melanin producers, etc.

It was then that Draco had a sudden realization. It had been nearly three days since any of them had left the room, consumed as they were by their shagging endeavors, and something terrible had happened. Something so terrible that it was not even namable, horrifying as it was.

Hermione had...

had...

had...

REGROWTH.

Her legs, formerly supple and smooth, were now slightly prickly, and therefore the bearer of all evil things in the universe. Also, there seemed to be an out of place hair in one of her eyebrows. There was just no possible way Draco could ever be with a person who had regrowth. No matter how evil he was.

There was only one possible solution to this problem.

"I think I'm gay now."

It was a lovely afternoon, and Harry Potter was feeling quite emo indeed, in spite, or else because of the glorious weather. It had just stopped raining, and the sky was lit from behind with a luminous display of refracted light that could only symbolize one cataclysmic realization.

It would, none the less, take Harry Potter several moments of pouting and wrist-slitting contemplation to notice the rainbow behind him and realize its plot significance.

"Oh, great emo gods, through whom we all live and have or being, send me a sign that I may know from whence my inner turmoil comes!"

Behind him, the rainbow grew brighter and more obnoxious.

"Any sign! Anything will do, really! I've always been very observant!"

The rainbow shifted about 60 degrees in order to place itself more firmly in Harry Potter's field of vision.

"Really! Come on! Just a little sign! Wait, is that leaf a sign? Am I upset about the destruction of forests?"

The rainbow did a roundoff backhandspring, which illicited tens from all but the Russian judge, who gave it a rather demure 8.6, which left the rainbow in tears while its coach shouted angrily at the judge's box.

Suddenly, a Slytherin boy flicked a cigarette butt in Harry's direction, which nearly landed on one of his very emotive converse shoes.

"Hey! Don't you dare flick your fags at the chosen one!" Harry shouted after him, pouting emotively at the ground. "Wait... he just flicked a - oh god. I'm gay."

"What?" Hermione asked, audibly shocked by the revelation.

"I said I think I'm gay now," Draco responded patiently, suddenly standing up and searching for his silky green boxers with the sexy evil snitches on them.

"Yes, I heard you. Are you kidding me?"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't joke about a thing like sexuality. It's alright, though. Everyone's gay nowadays. Dumbledore, too."

"WHAT? Dumbledore, too? But he's always seemed so heterosexual, what, with his bright purple robes with the trim and the frills, and his beard that's so often bedecked with simple floral arrangements. Who would have thought that Dumbledore could even possibly be gay, considering how many male students he called up to his office for a good debriefing?"

"I know. It came as a shock to everyone. Except, perhaps, an unnamed female someone I feel vaguely connected to because she's currently bastardizing my normal manner of speaking in an attempt to entertain herself during finals week."

"So I see. But what spawned this realization?"

"Hair."

"Ah."

"I'm going to go shag men, now. It will be even more awkwardly described than our sex scenes because the author's even less familiar with the male anatomy than she is with the female."

"Fine. See if I care. I'm going to go shag Ron! He's desperate and awkward!"

"Have fun, then! Toodles!" Draco noted finally, before running to his closet in search of his rainbow scarf and waltzing down the stairs.

It took Harry a good 87 seconds to become comfortable with his newly discovered sexuality. That is because it's quite plot essential for this to occur as quickly as possible, as the author is very limited in patience and has no idea what Unresolved Sexual Tension is.

"Emo kids are supposed to be at least a little bit gay, right?" He asked himself, thinking over decisions that would affect the rest o his life with the nonchalance one might employ while ordering a pizza, "And Dumbledore's gay, too. So it's alright. I'm Dumbledore's man through and through, aren't I? Maybe I should talk to him about my feelings. You know what? I'll come to Dumbledore. He'll help me work it out. Help me find my inner self. He's always known what I'm like on the inside. And he's always left me satisfied and smiling. There's so much he can show me!"

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID," shouted Michael Scott from a tiny office in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Harry didn't hear him.

"Dumbledore's dead!" shouted thousands of confused fangirls. Harry also didn't hear them, consumed as he was by inadvertent sexual innuendos.

"That's what I'll do. I'll go see Dumbledore!" And with that, Harry traipsed off down the road to discover his destiny.

His other destiny.


End file.
